


Need

by hey_malarkey



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Consensual Kinkshaming, Crying During Sex, Cuddling, Daddy Kink, Emotional release, Fingering, Fluff and Angst, Humiliation kink, Incest, M/M, Roleplay, Sexual Roleplay, Spanking, Stancest - Freeform, breaking in and out of character while roleplaying, breaking roleplay halfway in, ford likes power trips, harsh words soft touches, kinkshaming, look i was tired when i made this sorry, old stans, physical release, shifting povs, stan's mind blurring between reality and fantasy little bit, very light angst tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26718751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hey_malarkey/pseuds/hey_malarkey
Summary: "Calling people daddy is gross"-Stop kinkshaming me!"Kinkshaming IS my kink"*horrified pause*-aaaAAAAHHHH-"kinkshaming is my kink" vine. This is the stan bros engaging in a similar scenario as to what is imagined in this vine, with a few twists.
Relationships: Ford Pines/Stan Pines
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	Need

**Author's Note:**

> partially inspired by one of my favorite fics ever, "Chasing Ghosts" by anysin-can-hadplen. I think it's in a collection of fics either here or on tumblr.

“Hey, Pops. Can you come over here for a minute? I need some help.” Stan calls and hears the clunk of heavy footsteps coming closer.

“Sure, Stan. What is it?”

Stan was sitting on the edge of the bed, toying with a part of the blanket, not looking at the man who’d just entered.

“Speak up, Stanley. Tell me what you need,” he said, crossing his arms in front of him.

Stan mumbled something under his breath and Pops sighed noisily. He uncrossed his arms and leaned down into Stan’s space, tilting his chin up with one finger to force eye contact.

“What. Do. You. Need, you disgusting little boy?” He said each word clearly and distinctly, dragging out his words.

Stan felt a shiver run down his spine as he sat straighter and looked up into the dark eyes of his father.

“I need you, sir,” Stan says, swallowing hard. His father _harrumphs_ under his breath and nods, looking over Stan with a critical eye, letting go of his chin and standing back for a moment.

“You sure do. Look at you, you’re a mess. Either straighten your clothes or take them off, there’s no room for being so disorderly.” Stan looked down at himself and back up, unsure of what to do. His father huffed again. “What, you need help with even this, too? Come here,” he gestured and Stan stood immediately, coming to stand before him, shoulders hunched and hands fidgeting at his sides.

Stan stood still as the other began unbuttoning his shirt for him. He lifted each arm as he was given instruction to, allowing his shirt to be removed. Despite the harsh words and grunts, his father was gentle with his hands, leaving lingering touches along Stan’s shoulders as he helped him remove the garment.

“What do you say?”

Stan blinked and looked up at him. He took one step closer and put his hands on his father’s hips, leaning in to speak directly into his ear.

“Thank you, Daddy,” he whispered, turning his head and kissing his father’s stubbly cheek.

The man lifted his own arms and cupped Stan’s face. Twelve fingers framed each kiss that he gave to Stan, speaking softly in between the light way he pressed his lips to Stan’s forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks, finally his mouth.

“You were calling me his name in your head, weren’t you? You love to make this so much more perverse, don’t you?” Stan leaned into the kisses, and Ford moved down Stan’s neck, walking them back a couple steps until Stan’s legs were against the bed once more.

“You forgot it was me for a moment, didn’t you? So ready to jump into another sick fantasy, hmm?” Ford snaked his hands down Stan’s sides until he was cupping his ass with either hand, holding them close together while he spoke into Stan’s collarbones, kissing them in between sentences.

“Just like when you were a kid, always jumping into another dream, right Stanley?” Stan had his head leaned back and was still holding onto Ford’s hips, rubbing small circles with his thumbs against his abdomen, but he didn’t respond. Ford lifted one hand and smacked it on Stan’s ass, hard. Stan tensed up and let out a small yelp at the unexpected treatment.

“ _You’ll answer me when I talk to you,_ ” Ford growled in his ear, rubbing the spot he’d just hit.

Stan kissed his cheek again and said, “Yeah, Pops. I forgot you were Ford.” Ford grinned and brought his hands back to Stan’s front, unbuttoning his slacks and undoing the zipper. Ford shoved the pants down to Stan’s thighs. Stan pulled his legs out of each side quickly, before looking back up. Ford gently guided his brother down and backwards, laying him out on the mattress under him.

Stan went willingly, practically putty in Ford’s hands. Ford took a moment to unbuckle his own pants and take off those and his shirt before settling over Stan.

“What do you need?” Ford asked, body poised over Stan, hovering close but not touching. He would withhold his touch until Stan answered him.

Stan tried grabbing one of Ford’s hands, tried bringing Ford closer, but Ford was stone. Unmoved by Stan’s small whimpers and pulls.

“Do you need another reminder to use your words?” Ford asked, a sharp edge to his tone.

Stan shook his head quickly, like he would as a child, emphatically and so fast his hair whipped around on the pillow beneath him. But it still wasn’t an answer. It never was, by Filbrick’s books.

Ford grabbed Stan by the leg and flipped him over to his stomach. Stan gave a small yelp of surprise but allowed it, bunching his pillow into his arms and obligingly staying on all fours now that he was turned.

“I gave you a warning, boy,” Ford said, sitting high up on his knees, one arm poised high in the air. He brought it down with a quick _slap!_ And Stan gave a small grunt and tensed as Ford lifted his arm again.

“I told you to use your words.” Ford brought his hand down quickly, slapping Stan’s backside faster and with a few more hits this time. He was carefully not using his full strength. Just enough to get his point across.

“But you disobeyed me twice more. And as your _father_ I can’t allow that, can I?” Ford switched cheeks and Stan let out a low moan as the slaps continued against him.

“You tell me what you want, _like a man_ , or we stop this disgusting charade, Stanley. Your decision,” Ford felt a thrill run through him as he gave Stan that ultimatum. His hands were stinging from the hits he’d laid down on his brother, and the one last massive _smack_ he’d given right to Stan’s sit-spot as he’d said “your decision.”

Stan let out a small cry at that, ass wiggling from the force of it, arms trembling from holding himself up. He collapsed down a little bit as he reeled from the punishment. After a moment Ford helped him down all the way, rubbing his brother’s ass soothingly where it was bright red, and probably throbbing.

“I-I need you, daddy,” Stan finally said, voice small and words wobbly. Ford took a moment to swallow the disgust he felt at being called after their father, before he leaned more fully over Stan.

“How do you need me, Stanley? You’re a big boy, now, you can take care of yourself, right?”

Stan turned his head so he could look Ford in the eye. “I need you to take care of me, daddy. _Please_.”

Ford ran a hand down Stan’s spine, stopping when he reached the crack, leaning to the table beside the bed to scoop up a bottle of lube. He popped the cap and poured some on his fingers as he responded.

“I thought you were into daddy kink, Stanley, not begging. Don’t make this session anymore degrading than it has to be, with all of your nasty interests. How long did it take you to get hard, imagining me to be our father, hmm?”

Ford slowly parts Stan’s cheeks and rubbed at Stan’s entrance. Stan wiggled against the strange feeling, but sighed in relief as some excess lube fell over his ass and cooled him down. Ford continued to talk as he inserted a finger, shallowly thrusting into Stan.

“Or was it that humiliation you wanted, Stan? How many of your kinks can I cut down in one session? How many more could you possibly have?” Ford waited for Stan to grow accustomed to the stretch before inserting another finger to gently begin scissoring him open. His words continued in a harsh line as he did so. They’d agreed it as what they both wanted.

Ford grew harder and harder as he practically spit the disgust over his brother’s sexual interests, the superiority flooding through him even as he indulged in each and every one of Stan’s interests just as openly as Stan did for him. He didn’t know why it was so satisfying to feel like he had the high ground when they fucked, but it was making him leak like a faucet, and once he’d had three fingers inside his brother for a few moments, he knew they’d both be ready for his dick, soon.

“What do you have to say, boy?” Ford poured some lube over his hand and stroked himself a few times, waiting for his brother to answer.

Stan sat there, ass in the air, waiting for Ford to finish fucking him. Listening to his words he could imagine Filbrick speaking in the same tone clear as day, telling him how screwed up he was, how much he didn’t deserve how good he was being to Stan. Ford’s words blurred together and even though every touch was given with such care, all he experienced was Filbrick finally paying attention to him.

“I deserve whatever you give me, Pops,” he said, bunching the sheets into his fists as he waited. He heard Filbrick pop open the cap of the bottle and the small sigh of relief at finally giving himself some stimulation as he lubed up and prepared to enter in. He felt one hand on his hips as his father guided his cock to Stan’s hole with his other hand, entering slowly. Stan couldn’t hold back the keen that came from him as Filbrick pushed in.

He felt his father lean down over him, kissing one shoulder, whispering against his skin, “hold on, baby, we’re almost there.” In a louder voice he heard him say, “take it like a man,” as if he couldn’t decide if he wanted to be as harsh as he’d been or softer for the sensations he was experiencing. Stan relaxed as he felt the light kisses to his skin, and felt Filbrick’s dick enter him easier.

Once fully sheathed Stan let a small sob out over the pillow, feeling so full and so empty at the same time. He hoped Ford knew to change their game, he could barely think right now, and he really needed—

“ _Shh,_ Stanley, I’m right here, you’re safe,” he hears in a grumble behind him. The voice is the same but now the words match the softness and care of the actions. He feels the man inside of him thrust gently a few times, shallowly, giving him the sense of getting used to the slide inside of him. He felt the vibration of his father speaking against his neck and the breath of air puffing against the hair around his ear.

The pace picked up slowly, building, as the man thrusting into him kept speaking in that low, grumbling voice, kept bringing encouragements and praises that he’d always wanted to hear from that voice, and never had earned it.

Stan let another low sob out as he felt his prostate get hit, as the man shifted and soothed him.

“You’re doing well, son. You’re so good, Stanley. I’m right here behind you, I’ve got you,” his father said, picking up the pace and Stan was shaking with wonder at the praise. Filbrick reached one hand around to start stroking his dick in time to his thrusts, squeezing him firmly, keeping a strong hold on him. It was so much _good_ hitting him all at once, and he couldn’t handle it.

He came with another sob being torn out of his throat as he shook in his father’s grasp. He felt his father’s hand stroke him through it, cum staining his father’s fingers, continuing to whisper to him as he fucked him through it, hips rocking against his from behind. Stan wanted to collapse but Filbrick held him around the middle with one arm now, fucking into him to finish himself off, overstimulating Stan as his words turned to gibberish in his ears.

When his father finally came Stan cried with relief. He pulled out gently, and Stan cried out at the loss, feeling so empty again. Feeling used and useful at the same time.

He felt a hand petting his hair, fingers bunching against his scalp and dragging it back, smoothing the tangles as he stroked. “I’m impressed, Stanley. You did perfect,” and felt a kiss be placed on his cheek. Stan let a few more tears slip down his face and into the pillow as he shuddered, processing everything that had just happened.

“What do you say, Stanley?” he heard above him, hand resting on the base of his neck now.

“Thank you, sir.”

Stan felt a shift in the mattress as his father’s weight left the bed. He heard him walking out, leaving him alone on the bunk. Stan turned to face the wall, curled up on his side. He could feel cum trickling down his thighs but he didn’t try and wipe it off. He swiped at his eyes hastily, but it didn’t help. He suddenly felt cold, shivering and curling in on himself as he looked away.

He didn’t notice the footsteps making their way back. He felt warm hands bringing a warm washcloth over him, mopping up both the cooled sweat and the white stains on him. Gentle hands lifted him up and helped his arms into a robe, lifted a glass of water to his lips and helped him drink. Then lowering him back down to the bed and drawing a blanket to his chin. The man got into bed behind Stan, now clothed in flannel pajamas, and curling around his body. Stan was the little spoon, being warmed from all sides as one hand was loosened from the pillow it still clutched and brought to grasp a familiar six-fingered hand instead.

“Thank you, Stanley. Are you doing okay now?” Ford asked, using his free hand to rub light circles over his back.

Stan didn’t turn around. His tears had dried and he felt a bit embarrassed for them now. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Did you have a good time, Ford?”

“We both know it works for me. I’m more concerned about you, Stan. Tell me if anything was too much, please,” Ford begged, planting a soft kiss on Stan’s temple.

“No, it was… you read me perfectly, Poindexter. Near the end it got—but you read me and changed gears, and that’s what I needed. Thanks.” Stan shuffled his legs uncomfortably until Ford brought one of his own forward so Stan was gripping it between his skinny calves.

“Anything, anytime, Stanley. You know that.”

“Heh, even this weird shit? I mean, I know it’s not your favorite, to bring up all that dad stuff again but-“

Ford cut him off before he could finish.

“But you are always ready to be open to my sexual interests, Stan, and I want to extend the same courtesy to you. And in this case, it works out brilliantly that they complement each other so well.”

“Yeah, who knew being a judgmental asshole would go over so well in the bedroom?” Stan asked, laughing. Ford playfully dug a hand in Stan’s side and laughed as well as Stan bucked away from the ticklish sensation. “No fair, you got me pinned down!”

“Ha, you should have thought of that before insulting my tastes, brother!”

“I thought you liked honesty, nerd,” Stan shot back, wiggling in Ford’s embrace as Ford continued lightly tickling his sides, both of them fighting the chuckles from becoming full on eruptions of laughter.

“Alright, alright, uncle! Yeesh, I’m too old for that shit, Ford,” Stan said, panting a little, catching his breath. Ford returned to holding one of Stan’s hands and using the other to trace little designs softly against his neck.

It was quiet for a few moments as they soaked in the moment, entwined and smiling.

“Seriously though…thanks, Ford. That was exactly what I needed,” Stan said in a low voice, staring at the wall with a distant expression.

Ford bent down and kissed the shoulder where he knew the brand still lay pressed against his skin before replying.

“Sometimes we need to bring the past back in order to get over it.”

“Or get off from it.”

“Stan!” Ford said, thrown off by how flippant Stan had turned that serious moment. He couldn’t help the laughter, this time, and both let out strong belly laughs that held more than a bit of pent up nerves or awkwardness, but they just let it all out.

They laughed themselves into pure exhaustion and slipped into sleep together, still curled up, hand in hand. Exactly as close as each brother needed.

**Author's Note:**

> Look. It was late and I was just trying to pound out the rest of this fic. If it stops making sense,,, sorry haha. I just loved this idea and still do. Ford lives for feeling so in control, and Stan loves giving Ford that feeling, as well as rp'ing a scenario where his dad actually gives a shit about him, even if it's messed up. They work through their own problems the way they need to, and support and love each other through it all. Like good brother-lovers do :)


End file.
